


Normality

by kyowjin



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Angst, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, mention of rape, this is my first time writing something like this oh gosh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-20 19:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyowjin/pseuds/kyowjin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'But normal for me is a stranger’s bed and pitiful looks from people that don’t know my full story when they pass me on the street corner. If I wanted to stop this, I would. I <i>physically could</i>. I mean, heck, it’s not like I’m short on cash or anything. I just choose to. It’s my body after all, and what I choose to do with it is up to me and me alone. There’s just something so exciting and different and <i>not normal</i> about doing something that’s so sacred with someone whose last name you'll probably never know. The money is only a bonus.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Normal

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of a test to see how good my endurance is and this is also the first time that I've written anything like this. It'll probably end up turning NSFW and fluffy really soon.  
> Hoping to end it at around 6 chapters (including the first one even though it's more of a CH.0). Enjoy! ☆

What is ‘normal’?

After many debates and sleepless nights I have come to the realisation that there is no ‘normal’ for no such thing can actually be defined. It sounds like I’m being clever (I’m not really that clever, by the way. If I was I wouldn’t be in this situation now) but I’m merely stating facts. The dictionary, however, if you wanted the widely accepted definition, tells us that ‘normal’ is;

1\. conforming to the standard or the common type; usual; not abnormal; regular; natural.

But what, really, is either of those things? What is ‘usual’, ‘abnormal’, ‘regular’, ‘natural’? I’m not quite sure.

But normal for me is a stranger’s bed and pitiful looks from people that don’t know my full story when they pass me on the street corner. If I wanted to stop this, I would. I _could_. I mean, heck, it’s not like I’m short on cash or anything. I just choose to. It’s my body after all, and what I choose to do with it is up to me and me alone. There’s just something so exciting and different and _not normal_ about doing something that’s so sacred with someone whose last name you’ll probably never know. The money is only a bonus.

I really don’t mind feeling used and broken afterwards because I know soon the feeling will be over, and anyway the cycle of ups and downs keeps me going and ready and excited to face another day of grubby hands of men older than I care for touching me and making me falsely moan. What they don’t know can’t hurt them.

I’m popular in my line of work because I’m still young and taught and toned; which seems to be how the majority of the public like their boys. I’m pretty too, according to several customers, though I’m not sure if I buy that adjective as much as some of the others. Compliments are the perks of the job.

Don’t get me wrong, I stay safe. Protection and an escape route (not that I’ve ever had to actually escape from anywhere yet – knock on wood I won’t have to) is a must. Payment comes after and sometimes if I bat my eyelashes in the right way I can get a lift back to my dingy flat. It’s a win-win situation for both parties and I really can’t complain about it. My life, whereas simple and selfish, is exactly how I like it and I can safely say I would not change it for the world.


	2. White Sheets

The sheets felt good that morning. They smelt freshly washed and softly fragranced; and as I rolled over in bed, it never occurred to me that the ceiling that hung above me was considerably whiter and had fewer cobwebs hanging from it than the one I was used to. My head was throbbing, however, and as much as I tried to remember last night, no memories came to me. I must have gotten really, _really_ , smashed.

A smile crept to my lips as I curled into the foetal position and slipped my hands under the heavy pillows; opening my eyes slightly to take in the sunrise from the window that was at the side of my bed.

I only realised that I wasn’t in my own flat when the sunrise I was looking for had taken the shape of a carefully wallpapered wall which sported one of the ugliest patterns I’d ever seen. It was also painted an immaculate white which led me to two conclusions; a), whoever’s house I was in had some sort of obsession with white. I mean, white bed sheets, white ceiling, white walls – and b), this bed did not fit the normal type of bed I usually found myself in. For one, it was considerably cleaner and nicer smelling. Also heavy pillows? I assumed they had to be duck feathered and therefore _expensive_. Maybe in my drunken state last night I’d found myself a sugar daddy. Cool.

I then became aware of the smell of pancakes from outside the slightly ajar door that waited at the foot of the bed. My stomach let out an unhappy gurgle in reply and I found myself shifting from embarrassment in the somewhat lonely bed and resuming the foetal position I’d snuck out of. It didn’t really seem too bad. Pancakes, white sheets, probable sugar daddy? Yeah, I could get used to this.

I quickly found myself drifting off back to sleep, not caring about my whereabouts, lulled by the foreign smells.

“Oi.”

My eyes flittered open and I sat up on instinct. So many people had called me ‘oi’ in the past five years it might as well have been my actual name. The sudden movement sent a shock through my brain and the headache that’d be sitting at the back of my head ran to the front. I squinted through the pain.

“Eat,” insisted the voice, which I was pleased to find belonged to a somewhat attractive middle-aged man who was unmarred by age except for slight wrinkles around his eyes. He wore an expression that I would describe simply as ‘stoned’; but aside from that, I was proud of my drunk self for finding such a rich _and_ good looking sugar daddy. I had found that it wasn’t often that the two went hand in hand.

The pancakes that I’d smelt cooking were thrust upon my lap and an immaculate fork shoved into my unsuspecting hand.

“Ah... Thanks, uh...” What was this guy’s name again? I felt as if he’d told me last night or something, but no name actually came to mind. I blamed my hangover.

“Levi.”

“Levi...” It sounded good as it rolled off my tongue. It sounded strong and sexy – _refined_ almost – yet, it could be a mafia boss name; but assuming from this guy’s small stature that was saddening and highly unlikely. He must have been no taller than five foot three.

Levi sat on the small available space of bed on the edge that I had not occupied and watched as I began to eat the pancakes that had so much syrup on them I honestly thought for a while I might have a heart attack. ‘Well,’ I told myself; ‘surely lives up to ‘sugar daddy’.’

“After you’ve finished those I’ll drive you to the hospital. I don’t care if you don’t want to go or not today, kid,” he said as he ran his long pale fingers through his hair, slipping his eyes shut and frowning like he too had a headache coming on. I thought quickly as I swallowed my mouthful of mostly syrup before mumbling an, “I’m sorry, what?” in reply.

“Do you seriously not remember, brat? You were passed out on the side of the fucking road bleeding into a gutter,” Levi hissed. I winced at his harsh tongue and angrily stabbed the remaining pancakes with the fork in an attempt to make myself also look fierce.

“I don’t remember anything about last night,” I hissed in reply, copying his ugly, unnecessary tone; “Did we fuck? Because if we did I’d quite like to grab my payment and go, thanks. I don’t accept breakfast goods.”

The glare I got was vicious and unrelenting. I branded it as _illegal_ and _seriously_ hoped that this guy never looked at a child under the age of twelve with the same eyes. I was half expecting to turn into stone.

“ _No,_ _you little shit,_ ” he spat, bunching up the sheets in his fists as he gripped them – presumably to stop himself from hitting me, since I often did the same. “I would _not_ take advantage of a _kid_ who had clearly been _drugged_ and most likely _sexually abused._ ”

“Oh,” I said quietly, almost moved by the rhythm he carried in his words. I had wondered why I hadn’t remembered drinking that night. I suddenly felt dirty and out of place, not to mention used, within the white sea of carefully washed sheets. I was the odd thing out in this room I realised – I was not truly cared for. “I’m sorry.”

Ungritting his pearly teeth, Levi regained the soft composure he’d displayed earlier. “Don’t be. I’d be the same if I’d woken up next to naked in a stranger’s house. At least tell me your name, kid.” He looked tired. I wondered, then, if he’d been up all night trying to make sense of me.

I hadn’t realised, though, that I was naked apart from my boxers. Looking down at myself for a moment, I noticed the cuts and scuffs, which looked like they’d already been cleaned and disinfected, that covered my body. Parts of me were already starting to bruise and I figured Levi was right. I began to feel worse. Was I just an object to them? I found myself feeling more exposed and vulnerable than ever.

“Eren,” I choked out, sounding more like a child than an adult. I cringed instantly and shrunk back into myself, lowering my head and dropping my shoulders. It barely sounded like my real name anymore.

“Alright, Eren; I’ll get you some clean clothes and drive you to the hospital. I wouldn’t trust myself taking you home without knowing what horrid substance is floating around your body.” He stood and turned to the door. “Finish the pancakes and take a shower,” he added, gesturing towards the door on the other side of the room.

“You talk to me like I’m a child,” I snapped (somewhat unfairly as this guy – heck, this _stranger_ – had done nothing but worry for my wellbeing), my anger bubbling in the pit of my stomach as he began turn so he was facing away from me. I could not take being spoken down to as if I was still a kid hiding behind his mothers legs.

“You are one,” he said as he walked through the door and shut it behind him. The melancholy click the lock made seemed to echo around the white room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters will probably start to get a little longer after this and probably less frequent, but hey! I'm already a good way through writing the next chapter so hopefully I can get that up A.S.A.P!


	3. Flunitrazepam

I have no idea what we must have looked like to everyone else as we sat in the waiting room of the accident and emergency department in the local hospital. I would unwillingly assume that we resembled a father son combo and frankly, that sucked: _big time_. I didn’t want to associate myself with this guy even though he seemed to genuinely care about me when all I was was a man he found on the streets. I didn’t like the situation I’d found myself in at all.

And even if what Levi had said was the actual play of events, there were so many things – so many details – he’d missed out in his story, as brief as it was. Things like the time he found me ‘bleeding into the gutter’ or where that particular gutter even was. If it was indeed true that I’d been drugged and foul play had happened then there was no telling where I could’ve wandered to or been even dumped.

The whole thing just didn’t seem to make sense. It didn’t add up and it made me uneasy.

“Don’t you have like, a job to go to today or something?” I asked with the most innocent, yet adult tone of voice I could muster, desperate to break the uncomfortable silence that hung in the air between us and hopefully find out some answers along the way. I noticed that his expression changed for the slightest moment – was he thinking of a lie good enough to tell? – And then he returned to being ‘stoned’.

“Unemployed,” he said confidently, crossing his left leg over his right and leaning into the back of the chair before folding his forearms across his broad chest.

That, I concluded, was the biggest fucking lie I have ever heard. For one, how did he afford his lavish house if he didn’t have a job? I assumed, with all the cleaning products I had found in the bathroom while showering included, that his home and lifestyle cost more than my entire savings account held – and I had a _lot_ of savings.

And then there was always the question of what was he doing out in the early hours of the morning, if indeed it was actually the morning when he found me? I mean, sure, he might have been drinking but he honestly didn’t look like the type of person who would do that for fun. Or not for fun. Or for anything, really. He looked boring and painfully... _normal_.

“And you?” He questioned, sounding annoyingly sexy and condescending at the same time, bringing me back from my daze.

“Why’re you asking?” I hissed as my hand became a fist next to my thigh as the need to punch him started to rise quicker in my throat. “You already know.”

“I just wanted to know what you preferred to call yourself, that’s all, brat,” he ran his fingers through his soft looking black hair again. “No need to be rude.”

I gritted my teeth and looked down at my lap. Fuck this guy. Fuck him and his stupid clean sheets and wound disinfectant. Fuck his terrible way of showing concern.

Was he this sarcastic with everyone he fucking spoke to or was it just because I’m not in the same boring types of job as other people my age? My blood was boiling in my veins and I began to feel sick – the headache that I’d had this morning began to resurface and blur my vision.

“Whore,” I muttered quietly in defeat under my breath after what had to be about two minutes of all too familiar silence between us.

“Okay.”

**

“It’s likely you were drugged with something called Flunitrazepam,” said the nurse who two minutes ago had been inspecting my throat. Levi had let out a small snicker then for reasons I assumed were dirty and judgemental of my day job. I’d suppressed the urge to punch him out of respect for the nurse. “You might know it better as ‘roofies’, though?”

“I’m sorry, but what does that actually mean?”

“It’s basically a tranquilizer. It hasn’t left any burns on your throat though so we can assume it hasn’t been tampered with or anything which really _would_ be dangerous!” She then turned to face Levi and continued confidently, “I would suggest keeping a close eye on him for the next few days just to make sure he doesn’t have any allergic reactions or gets any worse. It would be really problematic if his throat we’re to swell.”

Oh _hell no._

“Will do,” said the sly fucker who was now smiling all too pleasantly for my liking. He seemed to be enjoying this way too much, and once again I was back to the idea that this guy was much more than he seemed. On one hand I wanted to know what his problem was but on the other, I wanted to be as far away from him as possible as soon as possible. I was already planning my escape.

Anyway, there was no way I was going to be staying with this nutjob for more than a few more hours. I wanted to get back to work, back on the streets, back in the sheets and arms of someone I didn’t know. I wanted to get back to my perfect life and start living it again. I began to crave a stranger’s touch.

I hadn’t realised that the nurse had kept on speaking to the man who would most likely force himself as my guardian for the next few days. I hadn’t realised how preoccupied with my anger I’d gotten.

“– gets enough rest and he’ll be fine!” She turned back to face me and smiled, unknowing of the hell she’d supplied me with. “Just keep an eye on your drink next time!”

**

“I’m not staying with you,” I said as I was lead to Levis car that shone in the afternoon sun. I decided that the guy was officially a ‘clean-freak’ and thought nothing else about it. Anymore thinking would get me angrier, I concluded. The feeling had settled in my stomach and had sat there uncomfortably ever since I’d first woken up in his bed.

“It’s either you stay in the spare room at mine for a while or I temporarily move into your... _place of residence_ , brat.”

“No way! Not a fucking _chance_! You can’t do that. And anyway i-it’s probably illegal,” I stuttered. I realised then that I had no excuse and I was being backed into a corner with my tail between my legs. I was scrabbling for fraying strands in an attempt to keep hold of my independence. I began to feel the hopelessness of childhood settling back into my chest and I hated every moment of it. Drowning.

“Hmpf, so is prostituting yourself out when you’re _barely_ over the legal age for sex,” said my captor quietly, sounding far more satisfied than was necessary as he sat in the driver’s seat and placed his pale hands on the steering wheel. “Stop fighting the world, kid. Accept the hand that’s offered to you,” he added as he tipped his head back and rested it against the seat, slipping his eyes shut and exhaling loudly. His right leg began to shake slightly and I wondered what it was that he was obviously craving.

I scoffed still, but I found myself relaxing for the first time today as I took my place in the passenger seat. “Where’d you hear that? A fortune cookie?”

A smile came to his lips and for a moment I wondered if maybe the next few unavoidable days may not be as bad as I expected. Heck, maybe it’d even do me good and help me to appreciate the life I would get back to living after it was over. And it would soon be over.

He moved his hand off the steering wheel and into the door compartment, taking out an unopened box of cigarettes and tearing off the cellophane seal before taking one out. He took his lighter out of his jacket pocket and I was amused to find that it was a novelty, special edition one with what looked like an illustration of the Eiffel Tower on it.

He offered the box to me and with no hesitation I plucked out the cigarette that was in the corner. He lit his own that now rested between his thin lips and then lit mine for me.

“I didn’t have you down as the type to smoke,” I said after a while between drags, my eyes growing heavy and hard to keep open. I blamed the Flunitrazepam.

I turned my head to the side to watch him. Whereas the smoking look suited him and his gaunt features, I found myself feeling that I was being graced with a rare event.

“I don’t do it often,” he said quietly after a while as he watched the entrance to the A&E department closely. I followed his line of sight to find that he was watching an old lady entering the hospital on a worn looking zimmer frame. “But sometimes it feels good to know I’m shortening my lifespan a little. I like feeling in control of it.” He took a long drag and I saw his hand shaking slightly as he held the cigarette away from his mouth. “Not to mention the obvious relaxing properties of the nicotine.”

“Yeah,” I replied as I blew the toxic blue smoke out of the open window. No other words seemed to come to me then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating this way faster than I thought I would be, omg. But anyway, this is kind of a boring and short chapter but it's only really to set up things for the next one (which at the moment is looking kind of sad - just a heads up).


	4. Clean Freak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a mention of rape! Just a heads up. Also this is pretty angsty.

After much whining and insisting on my part, Levi drove me to my flat before heading home to pick up a few things. He had, unsurprisingly, refused to come in after seeing the dreadful state the exterior of the block was in and waited in his car outside.

It was weird, I thought as I crammed stuff into an old weekend bag, how I didn’t seem to mind anymore about staying with him for a while. My perception of him had changed very quickly, and suddenly I was much more willing to give him a fair chance. I put it down to him smoking and watching the old lady on the zimmer frame earlier today.

“Is that everything?”

“Yeah,” I breathed as I sat back in the leather passenger seat, the weekend bag I’d hastily packed resting on my lap. I saw him eyeing it and judging how grubby it was, and I figured everything would have to be washed thoroughly before it was acceptable for me to wear around him or in his spotless house.

**

I sat on one of the chairs in his kitchen in nothing but boxers (it’d turned out that my guess was right after all) as he loaded his expensive looking washing machine with my clothes. I was only staying for three days and yet he’d gone to all this measure. It didn’t make much sense, really. I wondered if he’d surpassed ‘clean-freak’ status and reached ‘germaphobe’.

I don’t think that I’d ever seen a house as clean as his. Everything gleamed – from the cutlery in the drawer to the television that you could see yourself in. Even the lights that hung from the obviously lovingly dusted ceilings had probably never sported a speck of dirt. It was a stark, and somewhat welcomed change to my dirt ridden flat.

I had to know why. It’s not like he was just ‘a clean person’ and I figured that it'd had spiralled into more of an obsession than a hobby or general preference. I hoped there was something juicy behind it.

“So,” I asked casually as I flicked through one of the trashy magazines I’d picked up from home; “what’s with all the cleaning, anyway?”

I didn’t get a reply and figured he didn’t want to talk about it. A nice person in this situation would give up on the idea, but I really didn’t feel like being a nice person right now. I had to know, and if I didn’t find out I was sure that the curiosity would kill me.

“Did you say something?” Ah, I guess he just didn’t hear over the rumbling of the washing machine.

“What’s with the obsessive cleanliness? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He sighed, massaged his temples, and then sat on the chair next to me. I was shocked that he didn’t just shrug my question off, and now I guessed I was going to be lectured. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to hear it all. Stupidly, I realised, I’d just been expecting a one or two word answer.

“It’s a long story,” he started, looking over at the magazine that I closed expectantly. “Are you sure you want to hear it all?”

“Sure, yeah; I mean, I haven’t got anything better to do.”

He sat back in the chair and focused on a spot that seemed to have no relevance in the ceiling. He took a long breath – one that you would expect a swimmer to make before they dived. I guessed that in a sense, that was what he was metaphorically doing right now.

“I was a pretty fucked up kid. I ran drugs, knives and guns when I was about thirteen and I probably inadvertently got a lot of people killed. I hadn’t had a bad childhood or anything, I just wanted somewhere to belong, I suppose. Kinda sad for a kid of thirteen to be feeling like that when you think about it.

But anyway, as time went on, I worked my way up the pecking order and eventually established my own gang; and for a few years my men and I ran amuck doing all sorts of illegal shit. From drugs to robberies and general fighting. You name it, we probably did it.

But people grow up eventually and they go off to do their own shit. My right hand man fell in love and ran away to marry his sweetheart. I haven’t heard from him since. A number of the other members we’re arrested and jailed. Some fathered children and decided to be dads. My girlfriend at the time left me for a guy who could actually keep his gang together. So, in time, there was no one but me and the ghost of the group name left. At the time I must have been about sixteen? Seventeen?

And then my family wanted nothing to do with me after that when they found out, of course. I don’t really blame them – I’d probably be the same if my son had done something so fuckin’ out of line like that. That was how it went though; it was just me and the streets from there on in.

I got part time jobs and worked my ass off to try and get out of that situation. It never seemed to amount to much though and I didn’t seem to be progressing anywhere even after a few years.”

He sucked in a long breath and slipped his eyes shut. My pulse chattered nervously in my ears and I felt terrible for thinking those horrible things about this guy and asking about something that was clearly so –

“I was raped several times by drunkards.”

I gripped the edge of the table on instinct, digging in my finger nails to stop myself from erupting with the rage that was building in my stomach.

“It took another few years and a lot more shit before I finally realised I had to do something for myself. I joined the Army when I was roughly twenty. That’s just a couple years older than you, right? Well, I served for eleven years until I was injured in action and deemed unfit to continue duty. I can honestly say I have never been told anything more devastating in my life.

I’m unfit for regular work, too, before you ask about my job again. I’m in constant pain thanks to the injury and I can’t stand for too long. I was shot a few times in the leg in order to protect a comrade from what would have definitely been a fatal round for him.”

He went back to massaging his temples and I shifted uncomfortably in the chair, my stomach knotting with rage and pity. I gripped the table tighter.

“Not that I really give a shit, of course. I lost the full use of my leg in exchange for a man’s life being saved. It doesn’t seem like that much of a price to pay.

And anyway, I don’t remember much about the actual incident. I heard stories more than anything, but I can guess that most of them we’re probably spawned from Chinese whispers. All of them seemed to include a fuck ton of blood, though.”

He paused for a moment and his gaze hardened on the spot of the ceiling he was focusing on.

“I’d always been a clean person, but I think it was that that pushed me over the edge. The idea of my own blood making a mess everywhere... Just, ugh, I can’t stand the idea of living in a place that isn’t clean. The unclean places are the streets and towns ravaged by war. I don’t want to be reminded of living there.”

“So is – is that why you..?” My voice sounded alien.

“Yeah, well done, smart ass. That’s why I took you in after I found you stripped and bleeding out there,” he said quietly, turning his head to look at me with steel eyes.

“We’re more alike than you think,” he said softly. “Seeing you lie there like that; well, I saw myself. I know in that situation I would’ve given anything for someone to help me, whether I remembered the actual ordeal or not. But I wouldn’t’ve been able to live with myself knowing I’d doomed a kid to a life like mine.”

He rose from his chair, clearly finished with his speech, straightened his back and sighed loudly. “I spoke a lot.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Y’know; you’re the first person I’ve told all that to,” he said with a small nod. “I’m going to bed. Good night, Eren. Get some rest soon, alright?”

I nodded quickly and as he walked away and up the stairs, I picked up on the slight limp he had. It was only obvious when you were looking for it and I wasn’t too surprised that I hadn’t noticed it before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting somewhere with this and with this chapter over I can finally start with the fluffy, lovey-dovey stuff and eventually the smut. I won't be updating for a good week and a half though because I'm going on vacation from 29th July - 5th August. This isn't as long as I'd like but I wanted to update before I leave. I'm sure the next chapter will make up for it though :o  
> (Also, if there is any mistakes in this particular chapter, please just mention them - I wrote this pretty quickly.)  
> Anyway I hope you enjoyed! ♡


	5. Mother's Legs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are finally moving along with this and we're nearly at the finish line! Keep your eye out for a couple of parallels to the first couple of chapters here ＼( ｀∀´)／ !!

“Wake up.”

“If it’s before ten, piss off,” grumbled the man who pulled the white sheet over his head as he rolled over and faced away from me.

“It’s nearly 2PM, Levi. You’ve been asleep for, like, fourteen hours.”

He sat up with movements like that of a rusty wind up doll and glared at me viciously, making my throat stick uncomfortably and my eyes water from nerves. I relaxed quickly, though, as his gaze travelled to the tray of steaming, syrup drenched pancakes that rested against my hip and away from my face, which was most likely still splattered with pancake batter. I hadn’t realised how perilous it was cooking from scratch and it’d taken a while to finally get the hang of it. I’d almost been thankful for Levi’s clearly extraordinary ability to sleep through the loud clangs of kitchen equipment hitting the floor, but I’d made the pancakes with some succession in the end - and I’d taken time to arrange them in a similar, if not identical way to the ones that he’d presented to me, which was actually the entire point of me doing this for him.

“Hmmn, what’s this?” He groaned as he wiped the sleep from his eyes; “some kind of pity fuelled offering? I don’t need that, you shit head. I could be sleeping right now.”

“It’s not! I promise. It’s a kind of repayment? For looking after me yesterday.”

“Hn.”

“And we’re going out tonight. I want to take you, y’know,” I made air quotes with my fingers, “out ‘on the town’. Visit a favourite bar of mine.”

He lowered his gaze and muttered, “No, thanks,” before sitting up and taking the tray from me and placing it upon his lap. “I’ll pass on that one.”

“Why?” I said in a higher tone than intended, my line of sight drifting from his face to his firm looking thighs; “I know everyone in the area so it’s not like... It’s dangerous... Or anything. And well, you obviously don’t get out a lot so it might do you some good.”

He ran his fingers through his ridiculous, but notably cute bed head and sighed before stabbing the top soggy pancake with the fork and inspecting it thoroughly. I flinched. Anyone would have thought he suspected me of trying to poison him.

“Are you going to shut up about it if I say yes?”

“Maybe.”

**

The bar, _Maria’s,_ was full of punters and smooth jazz as we entered later that night and gravitated towards the counter. I chose the seat that was usually mine whenever I came and Levi took the one to my left; struggling for a moment to actually get on it (whether that was from the obvious lack of height or the less obvious as-good-as crippled leg I am not sure). I almost expected him to recoil in horror from the clogged air inside, which was heavily polluted by cheap perfume and smoke, but he seemed to accept it; even if it was in perhaps the most reluctant way I have ever seen. It was, nevertheless, refreshing to be back on the scene where my name (and ass) were famous. I was somebody here. Out there, I was not.

As I ordered my first drink – vodka and orange – I could tell from the vibe I got that it was going to be an interesting, informative night.

The first thing that I found out about Levi while in _Maria’s_ was that he did shots, and not only did he just _do_ them – he did them _very_ well _._ I was thinking for a while, since he came across as such a competitive man; that I would have get him tipsy through a competition but it was clear that I had no chance whatsoever against him. I wondered for a moment, before my thoughts all became a heap of drunken garbage, if he’d done this before. A lot of times before.

The second thing I found out that night was that I was completely captivated by the man. Faces in the background seemed to blur together and become meaningless as I focused on the man to my left. I wasn’t sure, really, if it was the drink in my system (which, thinking about it now, probably wasn’t something I should be mixing with the Flunitrazepam which was also probably still in my system) or a genuine thing, but I found myself getting flustered when he got too close, when his breath ghosted my skin as he laughed, when he looked at me in the right way – through his eye lashes. It was alien.

I was getting caught up with ridiculous ideas and I probably would go as far to say they were full blown _fantasies_ when I was reminded of my perception of normal and the perfect everyday life I’d lost only two days ago.

“Hey,” slurred the prematurely balding man who took the seat next to me on the right, “Eren, right? Friend of mine told me all about yer.” He touched the back of my hand gently and began to draw circles with the tip of his dirty index finger. The electricity that pulsed through me made my arm stiffen and my eyes lift to observe the man who caught my gaze quickly.

“Pretty little thing aren’t yer?” He continued, his eyes undressing me as if I were a child’s doll. “Yer got a price list, kid?”

My heart hammered against my rib cage so hard I honestly thought it would burst out. It was so easy to just nod and smile and bat my eye lashes and leave with this man so why couldn’t I do it? This is what I wanted for the last couple of days. It was right there, at the tips of my fingers. As hard as I tried to speak and agree to this man I found my throat sticking and my eyes watering in an all too familiar way. I was drowning and even though I opened my mouth to speak, water rushed in stopped me from doing so.

It was the cool clink of glass against stained wood that brought me back to my senses.

“Can’t you see you’re making him uncomfortable, you shit bag?” Hissed Levi, who, for a moment, I’d actually forgotten was there and paying attention. I heard him slip off his bar stool and walk around to my side, unable to meet his gaze, his boots clunking softly against the stone floor.

“Levi, don’t –“

“Hmn?” Interrupted the man; “who’s ter say that other than the kid himself, eh, shorty?”

Levi, on my request, had stopped advancing towards the man and I feared that had I not called out he would’ve hit first, judging by the tightly balled fist his hand was making at his side. My heart painfully skipped a beat and knocked the breath out of me as the imaginary water began to drown me again. Both men were turned and looking at me expectantly, both of them wanting me to say the thing that suited them best. My thoughts stumbled over each other. I wanted my life back and I wanted my normality and routine but then there was so much anger building in my stomach – so intense and hot that I wanted to push the balding man out of the way and restart. Create a new sense of normal and a new routine with the man, who, despite his injury and fear of all life outside his pristine house, was up defending me.

I didn’t stop to think when I thought this would be a good idea for him to be around me out here. I was everything he was forced to be and I hated myself for being so blindly inconsiderate. I began to feel sick.

“Look, I, uh, I’m not working tonight. Some other time maybe,” I said quietly, my voice failing me. I was becoming a child again and my throat began to burn. I wanted to hide somewhere. Levi moved in front of me.

“Tch, slut,” said the balding man as he turned and walked away. He slipped – tripping over his own feet after just a couple of steps and landed with a heavy thud on the cold floor. Although I didn’t actually see it happen until it was over, the way that Levi sucked in breath in a pained fashion before he sat back on the stool next to me suggested it wasn’t entirely an accident.

**

He was half asleep against the counter when I ordered my second Rum and Coke of the night after the balding man had left _Maria’s_ with his tail between his legs. I wasn’t sure how many drinks in general I’d actually had. Numbers didn’t really atone to anything here.

“On second thought...” I said, looking down at the smaller man who’d clearly been caught up by the vodka shots he did earlier; “forget that. Put everything I had tonight on my tab.”

The bartender gave an exasperated look before nodding and moving on to serve the next impatient customer. I had a feeling that he felt the same as I did.

“Up,” I commanded, getting off the stool and placing my hand on Levi’s back in an attempt to rouse him slightly. I doubted if he could not hold his head up that he couldn’t walk, let alone drive. It was incredible how earlier he’d downed his drinks and been virtually unaffected. It planted the idea that maybe it was an act all along and he’d been this pissed all night.

“If it’s before ten,” he slurred, not moving from where he was slumped on the counter, “fffuck off.”  I snickered and relished in the de javu before shaking his shoulder with urgency.

“It’s nearly 2AM.”

“Wow, shit,” he exclaimed, sitting up slowly, massaging his temples and cautiously testing the floor beneath him with his foot before sliding off his stool and standing: “I need a fag. Feels like I got hit by a fuckin’ truck.”

He took a single, wary step and his right leg buckled underneath him. He caught himself, luckily, since in my intoxicated state there was no way I would’ve been able to catch him; rested his arm on the counter and took a moment, taking in deep, whistling breaths that stirred concern within me; but instead of asking the futile ‘are you okay?’ question, which I figured would land me a lie anyway, I decided that actions were louder than words.

**

“Oh my God, you’re really fucking heavy.”

A swift kick backwards into my thigh was the only response I got as I carried him back to his house on my back. After all, there was no way in hell I’d be driving his car which still sat in _Maria’s_ car park (“Scratch my car and you’ll find yourself being hung drawn and quartered by none other than yours truly, brat,” had been the threat after my initial idea of driving him home had been laid out) since I was almost definitely over the limit. It was Levi who, even though he clearly hated the situation, had suggested that a piggy back would be fine and that he’d give me directions back to his place if he didn’t fall asleep.

He did fall asleep, however, and what should’ve taken half an hour ended up taking an hour and a half, by the end of which my arms were sufficiently numb and my legs achingly sore. It was also bitterly cold and the hot breath that lingered on my neck got me worked up and nervous. I put it entirely down to alcohol and thought nothing else about it.

The third thing that I found out that night was that opening a door at nearly 4AM in the morning while you’re somewhat drunk and there’s another heavy, drunk man on your back is easier to say than do. I set Levi, who, thankfully, had woken from his slumber, down and held his arm firmly to stop him from toppling over.

“Where’s the key?”

“... Back jean pocket,” he said groggily, swaying slightly on his feet.

It was always going to be an awkward manoeuvre – extracting a key from a shorter, unsteady man’s back jean pocket while still holding him up. I bent down, holding his arm still, and reached around with my free hand, locating his pocket with thankfully much less awkwardness than I expected and slipped my fingers inside. The key was easy enough to find – but seriously, who keeps their front door key in their back jean pocket – but hard to hold onto as his chapped lips mashed onto mine and his cold hands held my cheeks firmly, yet tenderly, in place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, the nsfw comes next chapter (though I was going to add it onto the end of this one, hence why it's shorter than I would've liked, but I wanted to update asap) and then there will probably be one more after it. Hopefully I can get it up in the next few days. Hope you enjoyed! ☆


	6. Sex and Socks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this is way shorter than it felt like it was when I was writing it omg smh. Anyway I hope you enjoy! Second to last chapter, even though the next one will probably be short and fluffy. (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

It was fast, instantaneous almost, the way that we got inside then. The key slotted into the lock so easily as if it was complying with the need to be inside and supplied with the convenient walls and blinds. His hands moved down from my cheeks to my shoulders, stroking soft finger tips down the sensitive skin of my neck as I locked the door behind us frantically.

I lifted him, being especially careful of his bad leg onto my hips where he wrapped himself around and made himself as comfortable as possible. My hands supported him from his ass where they’d settled and as his lips moved up from my neck to my face, I let my finger tips squeeze and test his rump which turned out to be as deliciously firm as it looked.

The kisses were wet and hot and my vision was bleary, both of us blinking through fuzzy heads which had been courtesy of the alcohol consumed earlier. I groaned as his tongue trailed saliva from his mouth to mine, and his hands worked downwards to unbutton my jeans that were starting to become tight on my growing arousal.

“Upstairs,” he whispered into my ear just as my arms began to ache from supporting him and the need to touch him grew more urgent; “please.”

I swallowed thickly – feeling nervous about something I realised I shouldn’t be feeling nervous about at all as I carried him upstairs, his hands roaming down my back and across my shoulders – his rough lips never moving from my neck as he did so.

I found the door to his bedroom after a moment of frantically looking around in the dark for the right perfectly white door. Giving it a harsh kick, which I’m sure I would pay for later, I staggered inside with the shorter man still on my hips and grinding down on them teasingly.

“Put me down,” he said just before I was going to lay him on the bed. I complied and watched as he rubbed his eyes before barking his next command: “Take off the sheets.”

“W-what? Why?”

“Because I don’t feel like having to wash them too in the morning, idiot. That goes for the mattress cover as well.”

“Wow,” I breathed, taking off the bed sheets and tossing them aside. “Talk about killing the mood.”

He rolled his eyes and then began to undress himself, which, truth be told, I was upset about. I had wanted to be the one to tear off his clothes and expose him. Nevertheless, I started to do the same but before I could remove the last piece of my attire (which, for the record, was my socks) I was knocked onto the mattress with considerable force.

Before I had time to question how he’d moved so fast for an injured ex-soldier, my lips were silenced by his again – the kisses, whereas before had been wet and hot, grew considerably more desperate and dry. His hands moved across my now bare chest, taking a trail that’d been taken many times before down my abdomen, his fingers stroking the short soft hair that ran from my navel to my hardening length.

I reached up tentatively, shaking almost and feeling embarrassed for doing so – my fingers running over his nipples as he began to kiss across my chest as his fingers continued to trail across me to the puckered hole that rested between my legs and stroking it softly.

“A-ah, I don’t really nee – “

“Shut up,” he hissed, shoving his digits into my mouth, which I frowned at but sucked on obediently until he was satisfied that they we’re sufficiently slick and then proceeded to remove them as quickly as they’d been inserted.

He moved back to his original position with his finger tips tickling my entrance, and, for a man who was probably responsible for half of the sales of Windex, he showed no unwillingness in hastily shoving them into me.

I gave only a slight hiss at the sudden intrusion and began to push down on him a little, quietly giving him permission to go ahead. His sharp eyes blinked up at me as if seeking further assurance. I figured, with everything he’d had to deal with, he was assuming the ‘better safe than sorry’ ideal.

“Go on,” I whispered, propping myself up on my elbows so I could reach the others stiff cock and tease it.

He shifted in response so that I had better access and he then began to scissor my insides slowly before adding the third and final finger into my ass. My own fingers ghosted around his length, stroking the head that glistened with beads of precum and leaving feather light trails down the shaft and base.

“Well?” He asked, removing his fingers slowly after a good few minutes of him unnecessarily stretching me. It was as if he feared I would rip at the slightest movement and I could tell it’d been a while since he’d done something like this.

I nodded anyway and lay back again against the bare mattress which had grown cold since I’d last lie down. My eyes, sore from the cigarette smoke in _Maria’s_ and the alcohol also from said bar, drifted to the spotless ceiling I’d woken up to two days ago. The whole situation didn’t even feel real anymore. It was like it was some teenage girl’s fantasy.

I was brought back from my day dream by the wet sound of Levi coating his cock in – get this – his _own_ saliva. It was something I was surprised to see from a man who I guessed must clean his house twice a day and in a sense I was proud of him.

My legs were then bent up and secured on Levi’s strong shoulders. I broke myself away from my sudden fascination with the ceiling and locked eyes with him instead, wondering for a second why he seemed to be hesitating in finally actually fucking me.

“... I don’t have any diseases, Levi.”

 “Are you sure? I don’t have any condoms or anything,” he grumbled, looking away from my face like an embarrassed twelve year old. I managed to suppress the laugh that clawed at the back of my throat. What kind of middle aged man didn’t have any condoms in his bedroom, anyway?

“I make sure all the sex is protected and I get regular checks, okay? Now just hurry up and stick it in me, oh my God.” The giggle emerged and I clasped my hand over my mouth, looking away in order to try and avoid the second hand embarrassment I was starting to feel for him.

“So lewd,” he said with a genuine smile – the first one I’d seen in my time with him. My heart skipped a beat and I cursed it mentally for doing so.

As he guided himself in I held my breath – a habit I’d picked up while working for reasons even I was unsure of.

“Does it hurt?” He asked as his hands moved from his cock to my hips where he pressed gently on the tender flesh.

“Nah,” I said as I exhaled and shifted into a more comfortable position, pushing down on him slightly and making him grip my hips tighter.

He began thrusting shallowly, as if testing his own strength and judging my reactions to said strength. I wondered if maybe he’d totally forgotten that this was my job and I was accustomed to being used and roughed up. I didn’t really want to say anything though, which was using up all of myself restraint, as he was simply being considerate – something I was not really used to in such a situation.

“Don’t hold back,” I said quietly and as encouragingly as possible as he began to gain confidence and thrust deeper and faster. “I won’t break.”

He frowned, gripped my hips harder and started to pull me down onto himself before I assumed the rhythm he was building with each of his quickening thrusts myself. I let out a series of breathless moans as he began to push harder and faster, his eyes slipping shut and his focused expression becoming more relaxed.

The bedsprings squeaked quietly along with the sounds of pants and quiet gasps and the occasional bump of the headboard hitting the wall behind it. The air was growing sticky and heavy – hard to breathe as it became hotter as heavier.

My hand began to creep up to my mouth, covering it as I found it harder to control the embarrassing groans that seeped from my lips as Levi continued with a stamina reserve that I placed quickly in the top five. My toes – still hidden beneath my God damn socks – began to curl and the pooling heat that’d settled in my stomach ever since we’d gotten in through the front door began to churn quickly. My back arched slowly like a drawbridge being drawn and my legs began to quiver on Levi’s shoulders with the near unbearable surges of pleasure that began to shoot through them.

He squeezed me tightly and bit his own lip in a fashion that was almost coy; his thrusts slowly becoming irregular and tighter as he too began to reach his limits. I felt his abs tighten on the back of my thighs and he curled forwards through my legs slightly as he struggled to hold onto himself.

I let out a loud whimper before releasing onto my chest and whining openly like a bitch in heat, struggling to breathe with the intense rush that shot through.

Levi gave a few more shallow thrusts before pulling out and cumming onto my chest with a throaty moan that seemed to reverberate around the white walls.

Relaxing my constricted muscles I let out a contented sigh and closed my eyes as I focused on regaining my stolen breath. Levi set my legs down and did the same, his breaths far louder than my own but comforting all the same.

After a minute or two after the pounding of my pulse had stopped thumping in my head quite as loud, I sat up on my now sore ass and looked down at the slowly drying mess on my chest,  grimacing slightly at the feel of it on my skin.

“You could’ve cum inside, y’know. I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Fuck no,” the other, who was making his way to the en suite, said through pants, “I would much rather clean up your chest than your ass, no offense.”

He returned from the en suite a moment later armed with a wet cloth but stopped and stood staring at me in the door way – which, actually, was something I was used to. I was expecting the regular line then, the usual; ‘oh, you look so good like that, covered in my cum’, but instead all I got was;

“ _You still have your fucking socks on._ ”


	7. Normalities

We lay in bed for what seemed like forever the following morning. Sleep would not come to me as easily as it obviously came to Levi so I stayed awake and watched what was left of the night melt away. To be honest, it wasn't too interesting. The sun rose at about six am. The middle-aged man who lay sleeping like a child next to me did not stir until seven. He woke completely at roughly half nine, which was just as I was contemplating actually getting up and making coffee for us both, but unfortunately I was stopped from leaving the mattress rather forcefully as my socks – which were still on since I suffered with cold feet and it was horrible anyway – were removed by the small man in the blink of an eye.

Within an hour of the other's awakening, a musky smell of cigarettes, (Levi had been too lazy to open a window or leave the bed, which was still actually nothing more than a mattress as the sheets lay strewn on the floor where I’d dumped them, to smoke) stale alcohol and sex lingered heavily in the air that slowly started to suffocate us.

“Who knew this would happen,” was the first thing he said that morning, rolling onto his back and staring at the white yet slightly misted by smoke, ceiling I’d woken up to only a few days before. When I thought about it like that it almost didn’t feel real. His eyes closed as he breathed out loudly and my eyes began to trail down his torso – observing the thick abs and chest I had felt against me but not quite seen last night.

“I am so fucking hung over,” he added wearily, lolling his head to the side and giving me a cold, bored expression as if asking me to help him in some way. I couldn’t speak just yet. I just nodded and smiled.

**

“You know,” I said, still in the same position I was in an hour ago; “Three days ago I used to think that normal for me was having sex with total strangers every night. Is that weird?”

“No,” he breathed, looking right through me and out of the window on the wall behind me. “Normal is whatever you decide it to be. It isn’t a place, or a time...”

He came to a halt suddenly, like the words had dried up and stuck at the back of his throat. His lip, chapped and sore looking quivered slightly and I wondered for a moment what kind of dreadful memory was playing at the back of his mind. I decided it best not to ask and quirked an eyebrow encouragingly.

“It's taken nearly twenty years for me to realise this but... It is a longing,” he said after his pause. “When you want something to be... Normal... Well,” he touched his forehead with the tips of his fingers and closed his already heavy lidded eyes. “Ah,” he continued. “It’s hard to explain. I'm pissed.”

“No, no,” I added with a small laugh, sitting up far too fast for my foggy head. “I understand. I mean, the longing part.”

“Hm?”

“Yeah! Because well, I, uh kind of,” I shifted my gaze to my fingers, particularly my nails, picking at them coyly I said softly; “I want this – _you_ – to be my 'normality'.”

He didn’t say anything for a long while after that. He just stared blankly at the ceiling as if he expected it to cave in and smother him.

"Ah," I breathed, anxiety beginning to nag at me; "Was that too cheesy?"

I began to worry quickly as Levi did not react - his lips standing like iron pillars pushed together. Thoughts of ‘oh God, maybe I read the whole situation wrong’, ‘what if he actually has a girlfriend or a boyfriend’, ‘what if I’m actually just a free whore’ rocketed through my mind and suddenly I was sweating and it got hard to breathe maybe from the nerves but also maybe from the bad air in here but then I realised –

I was nervous for a reason. I wanted nothing more right then than to be by this man’s side every day. I wanted to be the one to make him breakfast in bed and I wanted to be the one he got drunk with. The thought of not being anything to this weird, short, somewhat frog-like man made me _nervous_. My stomach churned unhappily inside me and I despaired quietly, needlessly over something that had not yet and hopefully might not happen.

I realised in that long, unforgiving second that I’d fallen completely in love. I’d fallen in love with a stranger. Heck, I didn’t know his last name. I didn’t know his favourite colour (though I could probably make a pretty good, somewhat accurate guess). I didn’t know what his preferences for pets were. It was all trivial but it mattered to me suddenly and now, well, I guess I’d fucked it up. ‘I am a child after all’, I told myself. Mentally scolding myself for fucking up my entire damn life so bad.

The feeling changed to self-pity as quickly as it had come on and I regained some sense. The sooner I got out of here, I figured, the sooner I’d start to feel better about myself. I could move back into my flat at home. Get back to work pleasing the masses.

So the word sorry danced on my lips as I turned to face him; his eyes slightly clouded with booze, his heavy breath somewhat gross and sulphury, his hair greasy with slowly drying sweat. My heart clenched. God, he wasn’t too attractive in the mornings.

“Sure,” he said, softly, sincerely, turning once again to look straight at me. “As long as you’ll be mine too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it!!! It's done! Sorry for the wait on this chapter (which is actually really short, dang)! School started and I've been very ill recently :'


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